


Power Through

by EmmaArthur



Series: Power Through [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But everyone will be there, Canon Disabled Character, Everyone Has Issues, Except for Kyle, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Malex-centric, Mutant Powers, The Gifted fusion, They're all mutants, Whump, everyone has powers, mutant AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2020-10-26 07:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20738360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaArthur/pseuds/EmmaArthur
Summary: Alex Manes escapes the mutant detention center, and is rescued by three mysterious mutant siblings and taken into the Mutant Underground, a clandestine network that fights back against the government. Only Isobel gets captured in the process, and as they run against the clock to get her back, some of Alex's darkest secrets may be brought to light.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a lot of AUs before, and this is my first for RNM, but I could never resist a mutant AU. 
> 
> This is technically a Gifted fusion, but you don't need to have watched that show to read this. I borrowed some of the plot and the settings, but all the characters and major elements are from RNM. 
> 
> I hope you like it!

Alex runs. Or rather, he doesn't run so much as limp under the pouring rain, wincing at every step, because being locked in a four-by-four cell for the last three months hasn't been good for his physical shape. His abused leg muscles are screaming for him to stop, but he can hear the police sirens in the distance, and he knows he can't afford to rest.

They're getting closer. Alex doesn't know how they picked up his trail, but he's not going to make it much further. He curses under his breath and rests a hand on the wall beside him, looking for a place to hide.

Picking out what he needs out of the sudden onslaught of sensory input takes him a second. The alley he's in is dark, the streetlamps from the busy street at the end not enough to pierce the night, and it's apparently a dead end. Alex grimaces in disgust at the overflowing garbage bins he can smell despite the rain, but he pushes on.

Behind the wall is...some kind of office. The door to his left is a fire escape, from what looks like...a school, maybe? Alex can see lockers and tables, but he's too tired to get more.

The ground floor of the building is empty, and that's enough. Now he just needs to get inside.

He limps over to the door. Brute force isn't going to get it open, not in his current state. But the lock is electronic, which means it doesn't need an actual key. Alex smiles tiredly. Maybe he's finally getting some luck.

He closes his eyes before lightly touching the keypad. The lock hasn't been used today, so the trace is faint, but it's enough for Alex. He's always thought of his power as getting into places' memories, and that's exactly what it is: the keypad giving him its last memory of being used. It's a simple code, four digits. He carefully watches−senses−the hand pushing keys and imitates it.

The door gives off a _beep_ that makes Alex jump back. Experimentally, he pushes on it, and the door opens without resistance. With a relieved sigh, he walks inside, trying to shake the water out of his hair. He's soaked, and, now that he's slowed down enough to notice, freezing.

_Where are you?_

Alex jumps again, looking around. He's certain that the voice didn't come from his immediate environment, he would have heard someone coming. But it didn't even seem to come through his ears, just straight into his brain. Is he hallucinating now? Hearing voices? It wouldn't surprise him all that much, but it's the worst possible time for him to have a psychotic break.

Shaking his head, he limps down a short corridor into what seems to be some kind of classroom. He starts opening the lockers at the back of the room to see if he can find dry clothes. He strips out of his borrowed, oversize shirt and tries to use it to dry his hair a little, but it's too soaked. He picks a sweatshirt that looks his size and throws it over his head instead.

“He's in here!” a voice says from the outside, making him jerk his head toward the noise. It's the same voice as the one in his head. He can hear at least three people outside now, running toward the building. Alex curses and looks around for an exit.

The fire escape is locked again, since he slammed it behind him, which should give him some time. Whoever it is isn't the police, they would have come in sirens blaring. But then, what do they want with him? And how in hell is he hearing that woman's voice in his head?

_We come in peace,_ the voice says,  sounding almost amused . 

Alex tries to get back to the corridor, the room's only way out, but it's too close to the fire escape. The supposedly locked door slams open at that moment, without a beep from the lock. Alex frowns, and backs away as far as he can go−into the lockers. He's stuck. He'll have to fight.

He winces at how much his leg has seized up in the few minutes he didn't use it, and distributes his weight so that he's sure not to fall even if he has to duck. He's in no shape for a real fight, but maybe these people can be convinced to leave him alone.

_We're not here to fight. We're here to rescue you._

“What?” Alex asks in disbelief.

“We just want to talk,” the voice says, aloud this time.

A woman walks into the room, slow and careful, her hands in full view. Alex doesn't relax. He tightens his grip on the heavy metal stapler he managed to grab off the desk, and extends his senses to get the other two people's positions.

One of the men enters the room behind the woman, just as carefully. He's broad-shouldered and dark, dressed in black leather. “We heard you broke out of the mutant detention center and we came looking,” he says.

Alex keeps his eyes trained on their hands, going from the woman to the man. The man is wearing gloves, but he's not armed, as far as Alex can tell. The woman looks slight and fragile, but she was also in his head, so Alex is careful to avoid looking at her directly. Telepaths can sometimes do things to you if you meet their eyes.

“I don't understand,” he says, still hoping that he can get out of here without a fight somehow. He won't outrun them, that's for sure. And they still have a third person standing guard. “Who are you?”

“Freaks, just like you,” comes a third voice, lazily drawling but vigilant, as the man it belongs to walks into the room.

Alex looks up at that, meeting the man's eyes. Large, almost glowing golden eyes. Not human.

Mutant.

Like him.

He doesn't relax, exactly, but he shifts out of battle stance and into attention. He suddenly notices what he's forbidden his brain to look at: the woman's skin, half hidden by her blond hair, is blue-tinged. The first man takes off a glove, slowly, and his hand is glowing red.

They're all mutants.

“I'm Max, and this is Isobel and Michael,” the man says. “We can help. If you come with us.”

Alex looks at him, caught like a deer in headlights. He can hear the police sirens get closer, and it's only a matter of time before they figure out he's here. On the other hand, can he really trust a bunch of strangers?

_We've all been where you are, or worse,_ Isobel's voice says in his mind.

Alex glares at her, if only because he hates the intrusion.

“You get used to it,” Michael smirks.

“We can get you some place safe,” Max says, more pressing.

“The police is about thirty seconds away,” Alex says. He knows he has no hope of getting out on his own now. “Can you fight them off?”

Michael just waves a hand, and the desk in front of Alex is suddenly levitating off the floor. Alex throws himself backward in surprise, and overbalances, hitting his back against the lockers.

“Whoa,” Isobel says, reaching out, but she's still at the other end of the room, and Alex rights himself on his own. He bites down a groan as his leg protests. “Come on, let's go.”

They only have time to get to the next room before police cars skid to a stop in front of the building outside. The alley Alex came from is blocked, so they have to find another way out.

“Max, kill the lights,” Michael starts to take charge, sending the desk he's levitated to block the fire escape from the inside.

Max extends a hand, his face screwed up in concentration, and the overhead lights explode. Alex jumps.

“How many are there?” Isobel asks.

Alex looks back, to see that she's looking straight at him. How does she know about his ability?

She taps a finger against her temple. Right, if she can communicate telepathically, she can probably see inside his mind. Alex narrows his eyes.

“At least ten,” he says. “West and south.”

“This is the Sentinel Services,” a voice comes through a megaphone. “We know the fugitive is in the building. Come out now, or we will open fire.”

Almost as one, they duck to the floor, to avoid being seen from the windows. Michael claps his hands, and there's a crash and a cry of pain and surprise outside. He made two of the cars collide, Alex understands.

“Find us a way out,” Michael says, looking back.

He's looking at Max, but Alex puts his hand flat on the floor, trying to focus despite the noise of the sirens. The police are surrounding them on two sides, and the other two are closed off by other buildings. But there's only one car by the fire escape, and the two policemen in it are from the sheriff's department, not Sentinel Services. They won't see what's coming.

“Fire escape,” he breathes. “There's only two guys, lightly armed.”

The other three each glance at him, then at each other, as if to decide whether to trust him. Finally, Isobel nods and they all move almost in sync.

Michael throws a hand at the desk still sitting in front of the door, and sends it careening into a window. “Michael!” Max yells over the noise of the breaking glass.

“Sorry!” Michael rushes past, already working on the lock. In under a second, the door is wide open.

Alex doesn't think he's ever known a telekinetic with that much fine control, but he has no time to reflect on that as they run outside and take cover behind the garbage bins.

“Our car's over there,” Max points to the end of the alley, for Alex's benefit. “We just have to get past them.”

The two cops heard them come out, and they're now pointing their guns at them from behind their car doors. Michael twists a hand and both doors slam shut, forcing the two men to lose their focus and look around them. Max blinks, and the blue police light explodes.

“Run,” Michael says.

He goes first, sending the car against the wall of the building as he stands up. Isobel follows him, then Alex, and Max brings up the rear. The cops start shooting at them immediately.

Alex runs as fast as he can, but his leg has completely seized up by now, the cold seeping in from his soaked pants. Each step is agony. He feels Max's hand against his back, pushing him further, but he stumbles.

Max catches him, but cries out when a bullet grazes his shoulder.

“Max!” Isobel shouts, her voice full of pain. She stops running, her eyes on Max, horrified.

“I'm fine,” Max grunts.

The cops are gaining on them, Alex registers. He starts moving forward, prompting Max to do the same, but Isobel is still frozen. Max reaches out for her, but one of the cops gets to her first, hitting her with his taser. She crumbles.

“Isobel!” Max screams.

The car is only a few feet away by now. Michael throws the policeman into a wall, but the second one is already on them, showering them with bullets again. Alex ducks, doing his best to bring a barely responding Max with him.

Michael is wild eyed, as he continues to deflect bullets with his hands, but Alex can see that he's taken in the situation. Isobel is too far away from them, too close to the cops, still unconscious. Max reaches out for her, but Alex shoves him into the car instead, cursing as he loses his balance and ends up sprawled over the back seat.

“We have to go,” he tells Michael when he's managed to stand back up.

“Isobel−”

“There's no time.”

“Fuck!” Michael exclaims, making one last attempt to levitate Isobel's body to them. But the cops are still shooting, and there's too much risk of her ending up riddled with bullets. “Fuck!”

He climbs into the driver seat of the car and starts it, still cursing.

“Isobel! No!” Max screams as Alex gets in the back and Michael hits the gas pedal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Do you want to know where they go from there? You're welcome to give me theories of what you think will happen, now that Isobel got captured.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this, so I hope you've enjoyed reading as well!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2! I hope you like it.

“Wait here,” Michael tells Alex, showing him to a couch. They're inside what looks like a former garage of some sort, but it's clearly inhabited now. There are a few people milling around, but they don't approach, only giving Alex curious looks.

Michael drove them for a good hour, around town until he was sure they weren't tailed, and then through a stretch of desert, while Alex did his best to stop Max's arm from bleeding. Max just stared ahead the whole time, nearly unresponsive.

Now Michael drags him through the room, while Alex obediently sits down on the couch. All he could get from Michael during the drive was that he and his siblings−apparently Max and Isobel are twins, not a couple as Alex first assumed−are part of the Mutant Underground. He's heard about the clandestine organization that has sprouted all over the country since the law firmly turned against mutants, but he doesn't think he's ever met a member of it before. Alex has always felt that he had a better shot at survival alone−and fewer chances to put other people at risk.

Michael stops at the other end of the room to exchange a few hushed words with a blond woman, then he none-too-gently shoves Max through a door, which he closes behind them. The woman heads toward Alex.

“Hi, I'm Cameron,” she says, extending a hand. “You can call me Cam.”

Alex starts to stand, but she sits down in a chair across from him.

“Alex,” he says, reaching to shake her hand. He doesn't offer a last name. He's never been much of a Manes, and maybe it's time he left it behind entirely. It's not like it's ever done him any good.

“I know tonight must have been stressful, and we'll find you a bed in a minute, but I need to ask you a few questions first.”

“I have some of my own,” Alex answers.

“I'm sure. I can answer at least some of them tonight. So you escaped from the mutant detention center?”

“Yes.”

“On you own?”

Alex hesitates, biting his lip.

“You're not going to put anyone in trouble,” Cameron says. “But we need to know if we can trust you, and what kind of heat we're taking on our heads by sheltering you.”

“I can leave if you−” Alex starts, preparing to stand up.

“No. Michael and Max brought you back here, so it's already done. You're welcome to do as you want, but we can give you food and a warm bed, if nothing else. If you do want to leave, I'd advise that you wait at least until morning, because the city is swarming with Sentinel Services agents right now.”

Alex nods curtly. He's not ready to feel safe here, or anywhere, but he _is _hungry and exhausted.

“Let me get you some food, you can eat while we talk,” Cameron says. “Hey, Maria,” she raises her voice, waving at another woman. “Can you get him some of that soup?"

“Sure,” Maria answers, moving toward a bar in a corner of the large room. She walks back to them a second later with a bowl of soup. “You're lucky, it was still warm,” she hands it to Alex.

“Thanks,” Alex smiles. He hasn't eaten since yesterday, and even though it's canned tomato soup, he's hungry enough to eat about anything.

“Do you have any family, friends we can contact?” Cameron asks, as Maria walks back to the bar. “Anyone who can help you or take you in?”

Alex shakes his head. “My family is...complicated,” he answers.

Cameron nods and doesn't ask for more. “How long were you in the detention center?”

“About three months,” Alex answers. “They said I'd get a trial, but...you know.”

Mutants have been disappearing through cracks in the legal system for years. Alex unfortunately knows where many of them end up−in his worst nightmares.

“How did you get caught?”

“Stealing from a supermarket,” Alex snorts, with a good dose of self-depreciation. He's fallen far, from the decorated Air Force Captain he used to be. Being on the run from the authorities for most of four years will do that to you.

“I'm sorry I have to come back to that, but how did you escape?”

“The detention center's doctor was an old...friend,” Alex answers with a sigh. The last thing he wants is to get Kyle in trouble, but he suspects the damage is already done. He can only hope Kyle knew what he was doing.

“Do we need to worry about him?”

“He's not a mutant, if that's what you're asking. And he won't tell Sentinel Services anything.”

“Alright,” Cameron says. “You're ex-military, right? That's why you were running?”

“How did you know?” Alex asks, surprised.

“I usually know. I served two tours before 7/15.”

“So you're a fugitive too.”

Alex has met more than one mutant who's escaped the Purge in the last few years. It took a whole two weeks for the government to go from kicking out all the mutants serving in the military to deciding to arrest them, and by then a lot of them had seen it coming and run. Alex was still in rehab when he got discharged, but his bags were packed and ready by the next morning.

“In here, we all are,” Cameron answers. “Now, we don't ask anyone to reveal their past, but is there anything we need to know, that might put someone in danger?”

“No,” Alex says, hoping as hard as he can that it's the truth.

“Good. That's enough for now. You had questions?”

“What is this place exactly? A shelter?”

“Our base of operation here in Roswell,” Cameron answers. “We have several of them close to the border. We use it as a temporary shelter for people who come through on their way to Mexico.”

“You smuggle people out of the country?”

“Yes. Given the situation, it's usually the best option for fugitives. The laws in Mexico are less restrictive, and we have people there who can provide you with new IDs.”

“So this clandestine network of yours is well organized,” Alex states. “How do you keep this place going? I'm guessing none of you work a nine-to-five job.”

“No. The network is national, so everyone brings in their skills and contacts. Our position means we're a hub for everything that goes south. We get most of our supplies from our Mexican friends in El Paso. We smuggle people over the border, and they get us food and supplies.”

“How do you get through the controls?”

Cameron smiles smugly and opens her hand, which shimmers briefly and disappears.

“I can hide a car,” she says, as her hand reappears seemingly out of thin air. “And we have a few friends in the border control.”

“That's a useful mutation,” Alex says.

“Sometimes.”

“What about Michael and Max?” Alex asks. “I'm sorry about Isobel.”

Cameron sighs. “It's going to be a huge blow,” she says. “The three of them started this thing. Max and Isobel are pretty much inseparable, so I don't know how he's going to handle it.”

Alex is spared from answering by a commotion at the other end of the room. He and Cameron turn to see Max coming in, putting his shirt back on over his now bandaged arm, followed by Michael. Another man walks up to them, angrily.

“This is all your fault!” he shouts at Max. Alex blinks as he turns enough for them to see his face. His skin is gray and almost stone-like, and his eyes are like dark pits. Pointed ears peak out from under his black hair.

Max doesn't deny his words, only taking a step back to avoid colliding with him.

“Isobel's boyfriend,” Cameron slips to Alex. “Noah. Max and him don't really get along.”

“Noah, calm down,” Michael snaps.

“No! You're the one with an offensive power! You should have protected her!”

“I tried, okay? There was nothing we could do.”

“You shouldn't have taken her with you!”

“Noah,” Max starts, his voice lower. “This is as hard for me as it is for you, but fighting between us isn't how we're going to get her back.”

“She's in _jail_, Max,” Noah spits. “Remember what happened last time we tried to storm a detention center?”

Alex watches all the faces around them go solemn. There's a story there, one he's not privy to. Max hangs his head.

“Yeah, I do,” he says.

“We're going to do everything we can,” Michael says.

Given how hard it was to escape the detention center with help from the inside, Alex doesn't know what they can do that would safely get Isobel out.

He starts when someone gets close enough to him to feel it. After the day he's had, his senses are all over the place, and he's having trouble focusing on anything, so he missed Maria sneaking up on him.

“Sorry,” she says in a low voice. “I didn't mean to scare you. I have a room ready for you, and you must be exhausted.”

“Thank you,” Alex nods. He really is. Checking that Cameron doesn't need him anymore−she confirms it with a shake of her head−he stands up slowly. His right leg barely holds his weight, but Alex hides his wince and makes to follow Maria.

She leads him through a door by the bar, into a room nearly the same size as the first. It looks much smaller, though, because it is divided into a dozen areas, separated by curtains. Some of them aren't fully drawn, so Alex can glimpse people sitting on camp beds or old pull-out couches.

“It's not luxurious, but it's all we have,” Maria says, showing him to an empty curtained alcove. The furniture consists of one camp bed, a chair, a small nightstand and a lamp.

“I've slept in worse places,” Alex shrugs, though he knows he's unlikely to get good sleep here. Enhanced hearing is a curse, sometimes, and hyper-vigilance is even worse. At least he's in a corner, so his bed is pushed against two walls.

“We have a few actual bedrooms, but we usually reserve them for couples and families,” Maria explains. “We don't have much in the way of a bathroom, but there's running water. You'll want to get up early if you want a hot shower, though, and please try not to use up too much water.”

“Not a problem,” Alex nods. Six years in the Air Force taught him to make his showers quick, at least.

“Good. Cam and I are heading down the border tomorrow to get a couple of mutants out of the country. Taking you out of the city is too dangerous while all the heat is on you, but is there anything you need?”

“Crutches would be nice,” Alex says after a moment's thought. He doesn't ask for painkillers. He's done mostly without for a long time, and drugs are probably harder to get a hold of than food. Though if it comes from Mexican smugglers, anything is possible.

Maria frowns uncomprehendingly, so he bends down to tap his knuckles on his prosthetic leg.

“Oh,” she blinks. “Of course. I'll call ahead, see what they can find.”

“Thanks.”

“I'll let you get settled, then,” Maria backs out of the curtained area. I'll be in the other room if you need me.”

Alex nods at her, sitting down on the bed. He's too tired to bother with undressing, even though his clothes are still damp from the rain. He just kicks off his shoes and pulls up his pant leg to remove the prosthetic, propping it carefully against the chair.

Even in his exhaustion, sleep doesn't come for a long time. Alex spends hours worrying about Kyle, who could get into a lot of trouble for what he's done for him, and for his cellmates, who probably hate him now. Alex didn't make friends in jail, but most of the mutants there looked out for each other, and leaving them behind was one of his hardest decisions. If Kyle hadn't told him he was about to get transferred to _that _facility…

Alex chokes on his breath, sitting up in panic. Just the thought of it is enough to give him an anxiety attack. Struggling to breathe, he scrambles for something else to think about, something that will stop the dread seeping into his bones.

For some reason, Michael's face is what comes to his mind. Michael, hurling around furniture as the Sentinel Services closed in on them. Alex came so close to being caught again, but they escaped. Michael brought him back here. He thinks about Max, too, and Cameron and Maria, all the people he met tonight. Working on getting his breathing back to normal, he tries to avoid Isobel. In a way, she took his place, and Alex feels the pull of guilt inside him. She doesn't deserve this.

No one does.

When he finally drifts off, it's to a world of vague, shapeless nightmares with uniforms and handcuffs and bombs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was less action and more worldbuilding in this one: what do you think?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been a bit too overwhelmed with Whumptober to write anything else, but thankfully I had a couple chapters of this story already ready, so here's chapter 3!
> 
> [mentions of war and injuries, jail, burns, (light) torture]

Alex gives up on real sleep sometime after the sky has started to redden through the blind-less windows. He stays in bed, though. He doesn't want to wake up the other people in the room, who probably need their sleep, and at least his body is getting some semblance of rest. His leg could really use it, after everything he put it through yesterday.

Once he starts hearing people waking up, both in this room and the bedrooms he can situate by sound, he decides to take Maria's advice and go for an early shower.

Sitting up, he winces when he realizes he'll have to put on his leg for that. He's gotten used to doing his ablutions without the grab bars he'd normally need, after four years on the run, but the bathroom is too far for him to just hop there.

Rolling his pant leg down over his prosthetic, he stands up and swallows back the moan of pain coming to his lips as his leg protests the weight he forces it to take. He limps to the bathroom, finding the single shower thankfully empty.

He comes out a few minutes later, the towel Maria provided him with around his hips, to find a short line has formed. He nods to Cameron and ignores the looks the other people are giving him as he hops over to where he left his prosthetic and finds a stool to sit on.

He's sitting back on his bed, finishing up the few PT exercises he's managed to hold on to after so long without seeing a specialist, when someone loudly walks up to his bunk, stopping just behind the closed curtains.

“Knock knock.”

Alex looks up from trying to massage his stump into submission to see Michael's large golden eyes watching him from a gap between the curtains. The rest of his body isn't visible, which makes his strange eyes stand out even more under his curls. There's something about those eyes that Alex can't quite place. A memory, maybe. He feels a pull toward this handsome, vulnerable face, but he squashes it down immediately.

“Hey. Can I come in?” Michael asks.

He nods. Michael pulls the curtains apart and casually walks in. Contrary to Alex, he's wearing fresh clothes, and he has a bundle of more clothes under his arm.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” Alex lies. Michael is the one who brought him back here, one of the people who rescued him from Sentinel Services and gave him a roof to sleep under. The least he can do is be grateful. “Thank you for last night. I'm really sorry about Isobel.”

“Yeah. It hit Max really hard, I've had to sedate him. He's very empathetic, and they have a psychic bond.”

“What about you?”

Michael shrugs. “She's my sister. I'm gonna do what it takes to get her back.”

“I'd like to help,” Alex says on a hunch. “It's partly my fault she got caught, after all.”

“It's gonna be dangerous,” Michael warns.

“I'm no stranger to difficult missions,” Alex nods to his missing leg.

“Did you get that in the war? Cam told me you served.”

“A collapsed building in Mosul,” Alex nods. “I was underneath. It was a few months before 7/15.”

He starts to pull the sock over his stump. He'll have to find some way to get more of them, because the one sock they let him keep at the detention center is threadbare and far from enough to keep the prosthetic from chafing.

Michael stays silent for a moment, watching him clasp the prosthetic in place and pull down his pant leg. Alex doesn't know why he feels so comfortable doing it in front of him. It's intimate, a private ritual that he hasn't been allowed to do on his own for months, and he should be annoyed that someone is intruding into his space like that, but he's not.

When he looks up, he can see no pity in Michael's golden gaze, only respect. Maybe that's why.

“What was it like?” Michael asks quietly. “The detention center?”

“Wha−you want to know for Isobel,” Alex understands.

“I've never been in prison,” Michael says. “I've seen plenty of labs, and hospitals, but never jail. I just want to know if she can survive there.”

Alex sighs. “It's probably different for everyone,” he says. “I wish I could tell you it's a walk in the park, but it'd be lying.”

“How did you escape?” Michael asks.

“Cameron already asked me that,” Alex frowns.

“I'm not trying to trip you up or anything,” Michael raises his hands to calm him down. “She said you had inside help. I'm just...I've been trying to think of a way to get Isobel back that won't involve a blood bath, and I'm coming up blank.”

“My way isn't going to work twice,” Alex sighs. “I was just really lucky. I happened to know the doctor in charge of the infirmary.”

“How do you know someone like that?”

“We went to high school together,” Alex says. He doesn't elaborate on his and Kyle's complex relationship. “The point is, I have no idea how to break someone out from the outside.”

“Couldn't your buddy help us?”

“He took a lot of risks helping me. And Isobel might not end up in the same place anyway.”

“I see,” Michael nods, looking disappointed.

“I'm sorry,” Alex says.

“Don't be.” Michael takes a step closer and hands him the bundle he's carrying. “I brought you some clothes. They're not new, but I thought you might appreciate having an actual tee-shirt.”

Alex is still wearing nothing under the sweatshirt he stole from the school last night, and his pants are prison scrubs. He nods.

“Are those yours?”

“We're about the same size,” Michael shrugs.

“Thank you.”

Alex pulls the still vaguely damp sweatshirt over his head. He's half-way through getting his arms in the sleeves of the black tee-shirt Michael just handed him when he realizes Michael is staring.

Not at his chest, or his face, but at the circle of burn marks around his neck.

“How did you get that?” he asks, leaning over to look closer.

Alex has only seen them in the mirror for the first time this morning, in the bathroom. Mirrors weren't a commodity they were allowed at the detention center. Too much risk of making a weapon out of them. Some of the burns are already partially healed, but the skin around his whole neck is raw and blistered. Alex grimaces.

“Shock collar,” he says. “They make all mutants wear them.”

“They burn us? How is this even legal?”

“You're really that surprised?” Alex laughs bitterly. “But no, not exactly. The collars are meant to stop us from using our powers, they only shock us when we try. I'm just lucky enough to have a power that doesn't have an off-switch.”

“Fuck. You just got shocked all the time?”

“The collars are regulation, but since I don't have an offensive ability, they were kind enough to keep it at the minimum level. By the third week I barely noticed it anymore, but it does shoot your focus.”

“I'll try to find you some burn cream,” Michael says, still looking shocked. “How can you have a power that doesn't have an off-switch? I thought people either had active or passive powers.”

Alex finishes putting on the tee-shirt, and then a hoodie over it. He'll wait until he's alone to change pants, he decides. “That's what we learn in school, but it was never like that for me,” he says. “Part of my ability is purely passive, enhanced senses, but the other part is psionic. Active, but I can't control it, only direct it a little.”

“Can I ask−”

“What it is?” Alex guesses. Asking mutants what their abilities are out of the blue is generally considered impolite, but if he understood right they're all mutants here. It's not the same, to tell someone who understands. “I've never had a name for it. I pick up things from my environment. Memories, of sort. If someone's been here recently, I can sense them.”

“And you can't turn it off? That sounds...overwhelming.”

Alex blinks. Few people ever think of that, when he talks of his abilities. They seem to think that involuntarily listening in on conversations behind closed doors, or accidentally seeing someone undress hours ago because you just stepped into their bathroom, is all cool and fun.

“It really was at first,” Alex says. “I learned to adapt.”

Michael nods.

“And you?” Alex asks him.

“Good old telekinesis,” Michael shrugs. “Nothing interesting.”

“At least it's useful.”

“It can be. The eye thing has its downsides, though,” he waves toward his huge golden eyes. Alex looks closely into them, and sees his initial assumption is wrong. His eyes aren't actually larger, just very shiny. Like molten gold. Again, it stirs something up in his memories, but it's gone as soon as it comes.

Michael's point is, he guesses, that there's no way he can pass for human with those eyes.

“Contacts?” Alex asks, because as much as he hates that any mutant has to hide, he can't deny the state of the world.

“It works for a short time, but after a while they start to melt,” Michael answers. Alex makes a face. “Yes, it's about as gross as you can imagine. And I can't use my power with contacts on. The physical mutation isn't just decorative. I can−”

Michael is interrupted by Maria sticking her head through the door. By now the room has emptied of all of its other inhabitants, who are going about their day. Alex stands up in reflex.

“Michael, we have a problem,” Maria says, pressingly. “Potentially a big one. Cam needs you out here.”

“On my way!” Michael replies. “Come on,” he adds to Alex.

“You want me there?”

“If it's big, it concerns everyone here. We don't have a top-down hierarchy, and we don't have the luxury of not trusting people.”

“I thought you and Max−” Alex starts.

“No, we created this thing, but we don't lead it. Everyone has their role. I'm a mechanic, not a revolt leader.”

“Alright,” Alex nods, following him out to the main room.

They find Maria, Cameron, Noah and a bleary Max standing around a table, by the computer station set up in the corner. Alex didn't look at it closely last night, but he can see now that it's set up to listen in to the local police radio. He feels a surge of admiration for how organized these people seem to be, even in such a harsh situation.

“What's going on?” Michael asks, leaning against the table. Alex stays one step behind, not wanting to intrude despite what Michael told him, but he tries to keep most of his weight on his left leg. His right is twinging with pain, worse than it should when he's just put on the prosthetic.

“Liz Ortecho just called Maria,” Cameron says.

“Liz Ortecho?” Alex reacts at the name in surprise.

“You know her?”

“Yeah, we went to high school together,” Alex answers, leaving out the part where she was his best−and only−friend. They haven't heard from each other in years, so it probably doesn't matter.

“Small world,” Michael mutters. “Why did she call?”

“She's on the run,” Maria answers. “There's an APB out on her.”

“How did she get burned? She hasn't done anything for us in two years.”

“It's not us,” Cam says. “Apparently her roommate just got arrested.”

“Her _human_ roommate? The prison doctor?” Michael frowns.

Alex blinks in surprise. What are the chances−

“I've got it,” Noah says from his seat in front of the computer. “Kyle Valenti. He works as a doctor at the Roswell Mutant Detention Center. He was taken in last night for...helping a prisoner escape.”

Alex feels the bottom of his stomach drop, as the same time as everyone makes the connection and turn to look at him.

“ That was him,” Cam states. “The guy who got you out.” It's not even a question. How many doctor could have helped a prisoner escape from the same jail last night?

“Yes,” Alex confirms. “I didn't know he was Liz's roommate, but we all knew each other as kids. He...took pity on me and decided to help me.”

And now he's going to pay the high price for it. Alex feels nausea rising in his stomach. He's still not sure how much he trusts Kyle, though his apology was certainly followed up by a truly selfless act, but being the cause of him spending the rest of his life in jail…

“He's human, so he'll get a trial,” Noah says. “He'll get away with a few years and having his license revoked.”

Alex nods slowly, taking a breath. Noah's right. It's still a bad deal, but it could be worse. Unless…  Unless word gets out of who, exactly, Kyle helped escape. And Alex has little doubt that it will, since there's already a city-wide search for him. And if that happens−

“If Liz gets caught, it's a different story,”  Cam pulls him out of his panicked thoughts. “ She's a mutant. They'll never let her go.”

“She's never been here, so we need someone to pick her up,” Maria says. “I told her to be at the rendezvous point in an hour, but Cam and I need to head down to the border if we want to be back tonight.”

“Max and I can go,” Michael says, not even looking at his brother to confirm it.

“I'll come with you,” Alex volunteers. “This is all because of me, so I might as well help.”

“ You−” Max starts, but Michael interrupts him with a wave. “Thank you,” he says. “Three will be safer than two. Noah, can you hold the fort?”

“Yes, I'll keep listening for anything about Isobel,” Noah says. “Go.”

“Let's head out then,” Michael says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Our boys are going to pick up Liz, and there will be more action in the next chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts and speculations!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whumptober kinda took over my life, but it's now over, which means that other things have decided to take over my life. But I do hope I'll be able to post a bit more regularly.
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter 4!
> 
> And thank you to eveningspirit for checking it over, handholding and being amazing.

The plans to get Liz are made quickly once Maria and Cam head out. Alex only has time to change his pants and make his bed properly, before Michael comes to lead him outside.

“It will take about forty-five minute to get to the rendezvous point, and we can't leave Liz hanging,” he explains. “With the Sentinel Services on high alert, it's going to be a dangerous meeting as it is.”

Alex nods and looks around him as they get out of the garage. It was too dark last night to make it out, but the derelict building is standing at the edge of a large scrapyard, filled with the carcasses of old cars, and what looks like an Airstream. The car they came back in last night, which is apparently Max's, is parked inside, beside an old blue truck that doesn't look out of place in the scrapyard.

Alex doesn't have time to look around more or ask questions. Michael and Max stride to Max's car, bickering the whole way, and he struggles to follow without limping too visibly.

Michael refuses to let Max behind the wheel, citing the fact that he's just coming out of a sedation-induced coma, so Max folds into the back seat. Alex takes the front seat, grateful for the extra leg space, though he's not sure if Max let him have it because he picked up on Alex's limp or not.

“How did Liz get involved with the Underground?” Alex asks, once they're once again driving through the desert.

Michael said that she hasn't done anything for them in two years, which implies that she helped them before. Alex hasn't seen his old high school friend−the only other mutant in his whole school−since he enlisted, and then being on the run didn't give him many opportunities to send postcards, but getting involved with an Underground smuggling ring doesn't seem like Liz.

“Her sister was with us,” Michael answers.

“Rosa?” It does sound like Rosa. And of course, wherever Rosa goes, Liz isn't far behind.

“You know her too? Right, same high school. Rosa was Isobel's girlfriend,” Michael says, his gaze almost daring Alex to say something.

Alex only nods. “Was?” he asks.

“She died,” Max says from the back.

Alex opens his mouth in shock. “She−” he starts, but no words come out.

“You didn't know?” Michael asks.

“No,” Alex shakes his head. “I haven't seen either of them since graduation.”

“I'm sorry,” Max says. “She died in a mission that went wrong, two years ago.”

“Fuck,” Alex murmurs, running a hand over his face. Rosa is not, by far, the first friend he's lost in this mess, and she likely won't be the last, but it doesn't hurt any less. Liz's older sister is the girl who showed him how to paint his nails, and how to wear his clothes like an armor. The person he once looked up to, because she was so wild and independent. And now she's gone.

Alex looks out of the window, trying to hide the tear running down his cheek.

“Liz wouldn't have anything to do with us after that,” Michael says. “She used to help by giving us some money, or setting up meetings with new people at her father's café. Shit, I hope they won't come for Arturo.”

“He's not a mutant,” Max says.

“He's undocumented,” Michael shoots back.

“They're only going after Liz because of Kyle, as far as we know, right?” Alex asks. “Would they really go after her family?”

“These days you never know,” Michael shrugs. “If they want her or Valenti badly enough−”

Alex bites his lip, filling in the unfinished sentence for himself. This is all because of him. If something happens to Liz or Arturo, or Kyle for that matter, he doesn't know what he'll do. Him escaping the center wasn't worth that.

“Let's get Liz to safety. We'll worry about the rest later,” Max closes the discussion. There's an edge to his voice as he adds, “I hope she made it to the rendezvous point.”

None of them speak for the rest of the drive. Max is wringing his gloved hands in the back seat, and Alex tries to massage his leg without being too obvious about it. He needs to be able to run if things go south.

The rendezvous point is apparently an empty warehouse at the edge of town. They park a block away and go in through a discreet back door. Their steps resonate inside as if they were a whole troop.

The space is empty.

“Where is she?” Max asks, turning to check around him.

Alex stops in the middle of the room and closes his eyes to cut off one form of input. Few people have been here recently, so his senses aren't crowded by traces. He can pick up their three sets of breathing and heartbeats, but there's a fourth, fainter, further away. “She's over there,” he points to a large double door on their left. Now that he knows what he's looking for, he can see Liz's dark hair and the dark gray UNM sweater she's wearing. She's pacing, nervous.

He doesn't miss the way Max and Michael exchange a glance, wondering if they can trust him, before Michael flicks his hand and the doors open wide. Alex goes through first, if only to show them it's safe.

Liz jumps and turns around at their entrance.

“Alex?” she asks, bewildered, when she spots him. “How are you here?”

She's not in the best state, after a night of running from the authorities, but she looks more determined than scared. This is the Liz Alex remembers, daring and unafraid. She hasn't changed since high school. There's a few more lines of worry and grief on her face, but she's the same person inside.

“I'm so happy to see you,” he says instead of answering, opening his arms for a hug. Liz's embrace is desperate enough that he has to brace himself with his good leg to avoid stumbling back.

“We picked him up last night,” Michael says.

Liz lets go of Alex and turns to him, and then to Max, and her face falls a little. “Thank you for coming,” she says, not quite looking at them.

“Of course,” Max says. “There was no question about it.”

Alex observes their interaction, and wonders about their relationship. They obviously know each other more than in passing, but the coolness in Liz's voice doesn't come from his imagination. Alex can't imagine what Rosa's death must have been like for her.

“Something's wrong,” he frowns, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

The other three turn to him. Alex goes down to his left knee, keeping pressure off his aching right leg, and puts his hand on the floor to get a better sense of the vibrations he's hearing. It gives him a much clearer picture of what's going on, though he's learned to channel his power in other ways since crouching has become more difficult. Right now, though, it's useful.

“Cars,” he says. “Six...no, seven SUVs, coming toward here at full speed. My guess is Sentinel Services.”

Michael swears under his breath. “They've followed Liz here somehow,” he says. “We have to go.”

“I don't think there's time,” Alex says as the cars skid to a stop outside the warehouse. “They're already here.”

“I can slow them down,” Michael says. “We go out through the back door, get to the car.”

He moves his hands, and the hangar door twists around the sides, the metal deforming until it's too crooked to be pulled upward. It will slow down the Sentinel Services for minutes, at best. They have technology that can easily get through whatever Michael can cook up for them.

Minutes could be enough for them to escape. The car isn't that far, just a block out, and the building isn't surrounded. They can still get out of this.

“Liz, come on!” Max shouts. Liz is still frozen in place, but she shakes herself and takes the hand Max is offering. She's never been in a situation like this, Alex understands. She's not like them. Alex is trained to fight, and Max and Michael have obviously had their fair share of running from the police. Liz may be a mutant, but she's also a civilian with no battle experience.

Alex slows down when they reach the backdoor, which Michael slams open in front of them, and touches the wall briefly, to get a sense of what's coming behind them.

“Bring it out,” he hears someone say. Bring out what? Alex frowns and stops fully for a second, listening. He can see the officer's face now. Several people, in Sentinel Services jackets. The trunk of a car being opened. There's a large metal box inside, with a logo Alex recognizes.

His breath hitches. “Fuck,” he murmurs.

“What is it?” Michael asks, almost in his ear, and Alex realizes he's stopped running to wait for him. Max and Liz are several yards ahead of them already.

“They have Mutant Seekers,” Alex answers, watching the spider's metal legs deploy out of the box.

“What is that?”

“Robots that zero in on the X-Gene. Small, really fast. They'll be on us before we reach the car.”

“Then come on,” Michael tugs on his arm. “We've gotta run!”

Alex follows him. Max and Liz have slowed down, waiting for them to catch up, allowing Liz to catch her breath. “Not far now,” Max says.

They can see their car, just around the corner, no more than two hundred yards ahead.

The robot spider cuts a hole into the hangar door, behind them. Alex scourges his memories for information on the damn things, but he comes up with nothing that can kill them. They're made to adapt to mutant powers.

“Almost there,” Max encourages them when they've made it another hundred yards.

They're out in the open now. The _thing _is gaining on them. Alex brings up the rear, but he can feel himself falling behind. His prosthetic isn't made for running, it's too rigid, and he already did too much of that last night. Pain shoots up and down his leg, worse with every step. The others are almost at the door when the robot catches up with him.

It jumps on his back, knocking him to the floor. It's shaped like a huge spider, its body the size of Alex's head, with long, pointed metal legs that immediately dig into his flesh to keep him immobile. He fights, trying to get free, but it's too strong.

“Alex!” Michael yells, running back to him.

“No,” Alex starts weakly. He already knows it's over, even before he _feels_ the robot change. Adapt. That's what the Sentinel robots are made for. “Go. Run.”

Light fills his vision. Alex shuts his eyes tightly, but there's no point. It's not a real light, just a play on his connected senses. The robot is making its way into his synesthesia, attacking his nervous system through his mutation.

The high pitched sound that assaults his ears is unbearable. Alex screams along, losing track of his surroundings. It's worse than any migraine he's ever had. Within moments, his whole world is reduced to the splitting noise and the pain in his head.

It lasts seconds, and an eternity.

And then, just as suddenly, the pressure is gone. There are arms around his middle, forcing him upright. Alex's head lolls, his energy spent.

Max and Michael are both leaning over him, Max's hands glowing so brightly that Alex has to close his sensitive eyes again. The robot spider is a few feet away, seemingly fried. But Alex can sense it reconnecting its wires, repairing itself.

“Alex! We need to move!” Michael's voice shouts in his ears. Alex moans at the noise and blinks, trying to focus. “Can you stand?”

With Michael's hands steadying him, Alex tries, but his leg gives out under him. Michael catches him before he can fall fully, but he moans at the pain.

“Shit! Liz, cover us!”

Through dazed senses, Alex can see a shimmering shell appear around them, shielding them. The robot, already getting back to its feet, runs straight into it. Liz's power. Alex hasn't seen those shields in years, and she's gotten much better at them.

As Michael drags him, half with his arm around his shoulders and half with his powers, Alex fights to stay conscious. He throws up all over himself before they make it to the car, the sensory overload too much for his body to handle. His head feels like it has been split open, and the axe stayed inside him.

It's only when the four of them are in the car, Max at the wheel and Michael holding him as he slumps in the back seat, that he lets himself loose consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments make my day and more, as always I'd love to know what you think :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been ages, and I'm sorry. I got caught up in other fics and life, and lost a bit of interest in this one I guess, but I hope some of you will still read this!

“I think he's unconscious,” Michael says, throwing his hands out to protect Alex from the brutal swerve Max takes to escape their tail. Alex is lying across the back seat, his head on Michael's lap, unresponsive. Michael can feel his pulse beating erratically.

“What the hell was that thing?” Liz asks, looking at them from the front seat.

“I don't know,” Michael answers. “Something new. Alex called them Mutant Seekers.”

He shudders at the thought of what they escaped. Max fried the spider that attacked Alex, at least for a little while, but they barely got into the car before a whole army of the robots came out of the warehouse.

They don't seem fast enough to follow the car, thankfully. No, now they're dealing with the Sentinel Services SUVs pursuing them and−

“Fuck!” Max shouts. “They're shooting at us! Liz!”

Liz's response isn't as fast as it could be, but she straightens and throws a shield around the back of the car, fielding the bullets.

“I can't hold it for long while we're moving!” she exclaims.

“I can stop the bullets whenever you need to reform it,” Michael says. He wishes he could check out Alex's injuries, but they simply don't have time for that. Instead, he twists in his seat until he's facing the rear window, careful of Alex's head.

“Come on, come closer,” he murmurs to the car following them, just out of his range. “Here,” he throws his hand out, and the car swerves off the road, almost tilting on its side. At least one of its tires is blown, taking it off their back. “Yes!”

“There are more,” Max says.

“Michael!” Liz warns as her shield drops. Michael closes his eyes, concentrating. Stopping bullets coming at full speed is much harder than taking a car off the road. He has to feel them first. It means he can't do anything else at the same time, including catching Alex as his head lolls off his lap. He winces.

“I'm good,” Liz says, and Michael opens his eyes again to see her shield back in place. He sighs in relief and slides an arm under Alex's head to push him back up, as gentle as he can be. Alex doesn't stir.

“Max, can't you fry them?” Michael asks.

“I'm more likely to fry the car if I try,” Max answers. “We need to lose them before we can head back to base, though.”

Michael looks at the road, trying to ignore the cars speeding behind them and Liz's shaky breathing for a moment. “I've got it,” he says, spotting a well-placed utility pole that seems to have already taken a hit, tilting to the side. His power isn't strong enough to bring a regular pole down, not while moving, but this one is already half uprooted.

“Take the next left,” he tells Max, pointing at the intersection just beyond the pole. The street is empty beside them and their pursuers, so he doesn't risk hurting any innocent bystander. “Liz, hold up as long as you can.”

“Not going to be long,” Liz says through gritted teeth.

Michael secures Alex on the back seat as well as possible, then turns again and reaches out. Just as they pass the pole and start turning, he _pushes_. The pole comes down easily, and he just has to direct its fall so it lands across the street. The cars behind them have no choice but to slam their breaks.

“You did it!” Liz exclaims as her shield drops, out of breath.

“I'll keep taking random turns until we're sure, but I think we've lost them,” Max says with a smile.

Michael smiles along, but he grows serious when he feels Alex moan.

“Alex,” he murmurs. He still doesn't know what the robot spider did to him. Alex's cries of pain were heart-wrenching, but he doesn't seem actually _i__njured_. He bled through his hoodie in a couple of places, but the wounds aren't large.

Alex moans again, his face scrunching up in pain. He tries to curl up on himself, but he almost topples of the back seat, and Michael has to catch him. Alex flinches at the touch and tries to get away.

“Alex, you're safe!” Michael says, louder. He needs to get through to him before Alex hurts himself further.

“What's happening?” Max asks from the driver's side, where he's trying to look at them through the rearview mirror.

“I don't know,” Liz answers.

Alex moans again, his hands going up to his head. He opens his eyes, briefly, and closes them again.

“What's wrong, Alex?” Michael asks.

Alex opens his mouth as if to answer, but it turns into a silent scream when the car swerves and his bad leg hits the back of Liz's seat. Then it's not silent anymore, and he's screaming out loud, tears streaming down his face.

“Alex!” Michael shouts this time, but it only seems to make it worse.

“Shhh!” Liz stops him. “I think I know what this is.” Michael can barely hear her over Alex's screams, but they slowly turn into painful sobbing.

“What?” he asks.

“Don't make noise. He's having a migraine.”

“Migraine?” Michael repeats, staring as Alex buries his face and his hands in Michael's shirt. “What−”

“His mutation,” Liz explains. “The enhanced senses. Sometimes it gets...bad. He used to have them a lot in high school.”

“But why now?”

“I don't know, that _thing_ must have done something to him. Or maybe it's stress or something. I've never seen him this bad.”

“What does he need?”

Liz looks around the car. “A quiet, dark place. The opposite of here.”

“Max, can you help?” Michael asks.

“When we're at the yard, I can try,” Max says, a worried frown on his face.

Michael looks back down at Alex. His shirt is now wet, which tells him Alex hasn't stopped crying, though he isn't making any more noise. He's shaking, badly, and Michael can feel his breath coming out in gasps. He shares a glance with Liz.

“It's too long,” he decides. “Pull over. Please.”

“But−” Max starts. He looks at them in the rearview mirror again, biting his lip, and relents. “I won't be able to drive,” he says.

Michael loathes the idea of leaving Alex to take the wheel, deprive him of the little human warmth he's clearly clinging to, but he will if that's what it takes.

“Can you give me directions?” Liz offers. “I can drive.”

“Thanks,” Michael breathes, to both of them.

Max pulls the car over. They've reached the end of the town, so it's just them and the desert ahead. Their tail is gone.

“Okay,” Max says, opening the back door on Michael's side. “Alex, I don't know if you can understand, but I'm going to try to take away the pain. But I need to touch you, okay? Michael, hold him down if you need to.”

Michael nods. Alex doesn't react to the words, only curling up even more. He jerks when Max puts his hand on the side of his head, but he doesn't fight it, too far out of it.

Max's hand starts glowing brighter, until it's almost blinding. Michael watches as his features become pained, just as Alex minutely relaxes in his arms. Max seems to hold it as long as he can, gritting his teeth, but after about a minute, he stumbles back.

“Shit,” he mutters. He visibly shudders, letting the pain run through his body until it evacuates. “It's more than I can remove. I closed his wounds enough to stop the bleeding, but the migraine is resistant. It will come back.”

Michael nods. “Thank you,” he says. At least Alex looks a little better, good enough that he might make it through the trip. He's still incoherent, but he's not crying anymore.

“I can try again when I get some energy back,” Max says, going to the front seat Liz just vacated with heavy steps. He looks exhausted.

Liz throws a worried look at him, resting his head back and closing his eyes, and then at Alex, his face still buried in Michael's now soaked shirt. “You'll be okay back there?” she asks Michael in a low voice.

Michael nods. “We just need to get back home,” he says.

“Liz,” Michael calls in a low voice, once they have Alex settled in his bed with a saline IV. Max went to sleep as soon as they got back, hoping to gain some energy back in case Alex takes a turn for the worse.

Liz looks up from Alex's bedside. “Can we talk?” Michael asks.

“Okay,” Liz sighs, standing up. She seems reluctant, and Michael can understand. As they cross through the main room, he discreetly shakes his head at Noah and points over his shoulder toward the other room, to tell him to keep an eye on Alex. He doubt Liz wants to talk to the man who came back from a mission without Rosa right now.

Michael brings her outside, to the lawn chairs he's put around the fire pit. The old scrapyard is far enough from its neighbors that they don't have to hide indoors, like in most of the Underground stations scattered around the country. He gestures at Liz to sit down and swings by his Airstream to grab a couple of beers.

“So this is the station,” Liz says, looking around her.

“Yep.” Michael drops into the second chair. “Not what you imagined?”

“I don't know. It's like...Rosa lived here for two years before she died, and I didn't even know what it looks like. And there's no trace of her here.”

“Then you haven't looked closely enough,” Michael says. “Come with me.”

Rosa doesn't have a marker in their spot out in the desert, like the other mutants who died that night, because her body was never recovered. But she's remembered. Rosa was never a fugitive, she wasn't forced to live here the way so many of them are. She could have had a normal life like Liz did, hiding her mutation from the world, but she chose not to. She chose to help the Underground, and she gave her life doing so.

Michael leads Liz back inside, and slips behind the bar. The board on the wall is a memorial, to all the people they've lost. Pictures of Rosa with Isobel or with Maria take up a good chunk of it, and a couple of friendship bracelets are pinned beside them.

Liz stares at it for a moment before her eyes fill with tears. She strokes Rosa's form on the photos with the tips of her fingers. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

“I can't imagine how hard it was for you,” Michael says. “But we loved her too. All of us.”

Liz seems to realize something then. “Isobel?”

Michael looks down at his feet, wringing his hand, the knot in his stomach tightening. “She got captured last night, when we went to get Alex.”

“Oh my God,” Liz says, gripping his arm. “Is she−”

“We don't know anything. Even Max hasn't felt her since they took her.”

“I'm sorry.”

“We're going to get her back.” Michael tries to sound reassuring, but he can hear his doubt in his own voice. “That's why...anything you know about what's going on could help.”

Liz turns away from the board and back to the bar, picking up her beer again. “I don't know, it all happened so fast. Kyle told me yesterday morning that he was going to do something risky, that I should be ready to run if it went wrong. He didn't tell me what it was, but he's been preoccupied for a while, and I know it was something at the prison.”

“You didn't ask?” Michael frowns. If Valenti put Liz at risk without even telling her why, he's an asshole.

“I trust Kyle. If I didn't know, I'd have plausible deniability. Kyle's mom is the sheriff, and she knows me. She would have questioned me and let me go. But I think Kyle's plan backfired, because the people who came after me weren't from the sheriff's office, they were Sentinel Services.”

“Valenti's been arrested,” Michael tells her. “But the man he helped escape got away. It was Alex.”

Liz covers her mouth with her hand. “Alex was in jail? Shit!”

Michael frowns. “Yeah, he was there for a few months apparently. Why the strong reaction?”

“Uh, nothing,” Liz backtracks. “It's not really my story to tell.”

Michael bites his lip and doesn't push. “What happened after Valenti told you to run?”

“Sentinel Services showed up at our apartment. I saw them arrive from the window, so I tried to slip away, but they caught me coming out of the fire exit. I had to use my shields to get away, so I'm blown. I can't go back there.”

“At least you got away.”

“Yeah. But Kyle...I get it now, why he felt he had to risk everything to help Alex.”

“He's a human, he'll be okay,” Michael shrugs. It's not that he doesn't care, but Valenti's fate will be much easier than Isobel's in jail. “_I _don't get it, though. Why is Alex so special that he would risk everything to get him out? There's thousands of mutants in the detention centers;”

“He and Kyle were best friends when they were kids,” Liz answers, but Michael can feel that she's not telling him the whole truth.

H e just nods, though. “You can stay here for as long as you want,” he says. “We can arrange passage for you and your dad to Mexico when the heat dies down.”

“My dad gave up everything to come here _from_ Mexico,” Liz shakes her head. “I doubt he'll want to go back.”

“Yeah, but that was before he gave birth to two mutant daughters. Before 7/15. Do you really think he'll risk losing you too?”

Michael realizes belatedly how callous that came out as. Liz glares at him and looks away. “I want to fight,” she says. “For Rosa. For me.”

Michael nods, but Noah interrupts them before he can answer. “Max just gave Alex some more energy,” he says. Behind him, Michael sees Max stumble out of the common room in the direction of his own bedroom. “He's waking up a bit, but he's still incoherent.”

“If it's really a migraine, it will likely last a couple of days,” Liz says. “The bad ones always did. Though I don't know how Max's power might affect it.”

“Max can only heal actual wounds,” Michael explains. “And even then just superficial ones, unless he has a large source of power to draw from. The best he can do for Alex is calm down the pain for a while. We should keep an eye on him.”

L iz nods and heads to Alex's bedside, barely giving Noah a glance. “You okay?” Michael asks him.

“No word on Isobel on the radio,” Noah says instead of answering. Michael understands. They both miss her, but they need to handle the immediate issues.

“We'll get her back,” Michael pats his arm. “I think Alex may be able to help when he's better.”

“I keep trying to imagine what she's going through.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They squeeze each other's arm, briefly, like brothers. Noah will never be a s close as Max and Isobel  are to Michael, but he's important to Isobel, and he's a good man.

He grabs an old bottle of nail polish remover from the bar, that now holds their stash of hypercortisone, and swings by Max's room  to check on him. Max is already down for the count, lying on top of the covers with his clothes on, so Michael floats the bottle onto his nightstand for when he wakes up.

Alex, on the other hand, is half awake when Michael joins Liz by his bed in the common room.  He looks bad, his face pale and clammy, squinting even in the low light, and he's leaning over a bucket that distinctively smells of vomit. “Alex,” Liz is whispering. “What do you need?”

Alex tries to sit up, but he whimpers and clasps his hands on his ears at a loud bang in the other room. Michael winces in compassion. With too many mutants cramped in a small building, this place is never quiet.

Alex opens his eyes again and spots him. He hangs onto Michael's gaze, as he carefully removes one hand from his head and gestures down. “Leg,” he murmurs.

It takes Michael a moment to understand, to even remember Alex's missing limb. “You want me to remove it?” he asks in a low voice.

Alex nods gratefully and falls back down against his pillow. “What do you mean?” Liz whispers.

Michael shushes her and starts undoing Alex's pants carefully. When he uncovers the metal prosthesis, Liz gasps. “Oh my God. When did that happen?”

“Iraq,” Alex mutters, reminding them that he's listening, even if he has his face pressed against his pillow. “There's...a pin,” he adds for Michael.

Michael observes the prosthesis for a moment before he figures out the mechanism. “Got it,” he says, releasing the pin and taking off the leg. He removes the several socks lining Alex's stump as well, and gently pulls the blanket from under him to cover his legs with it.

“Thanks,” Alex murmurs, curling up on his side, one hand still pressed to his exposed ear.

Michael bites his lip and grabs the bucket to go wash it, and  L iz quietly sits down on the chair, grabbing Alex's other hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts about it. And I'll do everything not to wait another four months to update!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only been seven months and a whole season since the last update but...that's nothing, right? You're all still here with me?
> 
> We left Alex in the throes of his migraine, triggered by the (very bad) Mutant Seeker robot spiders that attacked him, Michael, Liz and Max while they were picking up Liz. In this chapter he gets to have a proper conversation with Michael, for starters.

Alex opens his eyes carefully, bracing himself, but for the first time in hours the light doesn't trigger a bout of nausea, just a sharp spike of pain in his head that he can easily ignore. He doesn't try to move, though. The migraine isn't gone, just receded a little.

“What time is it?” he rasps out when he sees Michael sitting beside him. He tries to piece together what has happened since they went to get Liz, but his memories are warped and fuzzy. He's been here in bed for a while, he thinks.

“Eight p.m.,” Michael answers.

“Evening?” Alex frowns.

“Yeah. Thursday. You've been out for a day and a half. Whatever that thing was, it got you pretty bad.”

Alex sighs and closes his eyes again, exhausted. “We didn't really know what to do,” Michael continues.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.”

Alex tries to feel his body over the blinding pain in his head. It's hard to even tell where his limbs are, but he remembers asking Michael to remove his leg. He winces internally at the thought. He hasn't been touched by someone that w ay in years –  at least not someone well-intentioned .

His body feels heavy, but the weight of the blanket on him is nearly unbearable. He's one big ball of pain, too indistinct to point any specific injury. Experimentally, he tries to sit up, and nearly falls right back into his pillow.

“Whoa,” Michael says, needlessly reaching out to catch him.

It's better, though. He can feel his hands properly, and he can move. At the height of the migraine, he was so far detached from his body that he couldn't even stop it from screaming.

“I'm fine,” he says.

“Right.” The sarcasm is heavy is Michael's voice. Alex smiles, and realizes belatedly that he hasn't reopened his eyes. It's not like it makes much of a difference, to him.

Breathing in, he takes note of the other people in the room, beyond the closed curtains. He's careful not to extend his senses, but he hears someone's slow breaths two beds from him. Liz, his brain supplies. She's asleep. Everyone else seems to be in the main room, but Alex tries to shut them out, rather than listen. From Michael's demeanor, they're safe, and that's all Alex needs to know for now.

It strikes him as odd, how safe he's feeling. It's been a long time since he's trusted his surroundings that much. For some reason, he trusts Michael's large golden eyes even though they've barely met, and this place full of mutants.

He sits up fully this time, though resting his head back on the wall behind him. “Liz?” he asks, nodding to where she's sleeping.

“She stayed up to look after you, but she was exhausted,” Michael answers.

Alex nods, but he immediately regrets the move, swallowing a wave of nausea. He reaches out for the glass of water he can sense on the nightstand beside his bed, without turning his head. In an instant, the glass gently lands in his hand. “Thanks.”

“Can you see behind your head or something?” Michael raises his eyebrows.

“Sort of,” Alex shrugs, taking a sip of water. “My senses are all connected, so I can see what I can hear or smell.”

He notices the IV cannula in the inside of his left arm and follows the tube up to the head of the bed, where an IV bag is hanging around the arm piece of a forearm crutch, leaning on the nightstand. “What's in that?” he motions with his thumb.

“It's just saline,” Michael says. “We don't really have much in the way of medical supplies. There are some oral painkillers if you need them.”

“I'm good,” Alex says. He could really use some, but he's done without for so long that he doesn't want to risk getting used to having them on hand. He's probably not going to be here for long.

“How did you handle migraines while on the run?” Michael asks. “Liz said you've had them for a long time.”

Oh God, Liz. Alex  remembers her screaming in the car. He almost forgot h ow he got injured in the first place. “Is she okay?  Are you all okay? ”

“Yes, she's fine. We fielded some bullets in the car but none of us were injured. Max used his power on you a couple times and it tired him out, though.”

“His power?”

“Secondary mutation, he can heal superficial wounds and absorb pain. His main power is electricity manipulation. You don't remember?”

Alex starts to shake his head, then frowns. This migraine's patterns are distinctly inconsistent,  and he does remember Max's hands on his body, the strange feeling of suction as the pain eased for a while. He looks down at his body − someone changed his clothes − and pulls his shirt up until he can see one of the wounds where the Seeker got i ts claw inside him. It's already partly  healed , it doesn't look like a day-old wound. He prods it carefully, and while it hurts, it's barely swollen. Good. At least he doesn't have to worry about infection s .

Alex tries to take stock of the rest of his body. He can feel more sore spots on his thighs and back, most likely the other wounds, and his muscles are aching from the tension of the migraine, but otherwise he seems okay. He checks that his eardrums haven't burst from the spider's noise, but his ears are fine. He's not even sure that the noise was real, and not a play on his senses. Strong bursts of light often translate into high pitched whistles in his brain.

“I hid in the smallest, darkest corner I could find,” he answers Michael's earlier question. “During the first year or so, the mutant clinic in Albuquerque was still running, and they let me crash there occasionally.”

“How often do you have them?”

Alex shrugs. “Every other month or so. Most of them aren't this bad though. Usually I don't lose consciousness.”

Michael nods, and doesn't offer him pity. “Do you need anything?” he asks instead.

Alex thinks about it. The sound reverberating around the two connected rooms is making his head swim, and there are too many people i n the main room, too much noise . It's hard to breathe.

“Can I go outside?” he asks. It's late, but it's also summer, and they're in the middle of the desert. It should be warm and quiet.

“Are you sure getting out of bed is a good idea?” Michael asks.

“Not really,” Alex admits. “But this place is a bit−” he hesitates, waving vaguely.

“Stifling?” Michael offers. “It can be an adjustment, when you're not used to having people around.”

“Something like that.”

“I've got some chairs out. I can even start a fire. If you think you can make it there.”

Alex groans as he s tands up.  Even beside his head, h is whole body hurts,  especially the spots in his back and thighs where the robot spider's s pikes broke his skin. He's fairly sure his leg won't handle the prosthe sis , but Maria apparently managed to bring him back a pair of crutches. He looks at the IV in his arm.

“Keep it in,” Michael says. “You can use the fluids. I'll carry it for you.”

Alex nods his thanks and grabs the crutches as Michael floats the IV bag in front of him. He stumbles  with h is first step , but a gentl e pressure keeps him vertical until he's situated. He looks up at Michael, who has a soft smile on his face.

Alex should hate this, being this vulnerable in front of a near stranger − in front of _anyone_, but he doesn't have people in his life who aren't strangers, at this point. But then Michael looks at him like this, all soft edges and no pity in his eyes, and Alex can't hate him.

They make their slow way outside, through a back door that takes them directly to the junkyard. From up close, the Airstream sitting there looks like someone is taking care of it, unlike most of the car carcasses around. In front of it are a few deck chairs around a fire pit. Alex carefully sits down while Michael hooks the IV bag back on one of his crutches, propping it against the back of his chair.

“That's where I sleep,” Michael indicates the Airstream with his chin, dropping into another chair. “While you're here, you could come if you want some quiet.”

Alex feels his eyes widen. “Why are you offering this? You barely know me.”

“Your mutation…it has to be hell sometimes, and we don't have a lot of options for privacy. And I like you,” Michael smiles a little.

Alex smiles back guardedly. He doesn't even remember the last time someone tried to flirt with him. And yet, he can feel it too, this instant connection between them. He feels safe with Michael, for the first time in years, so safe that he isn't even worried about being outside without his prosthesis, vulnerable and defenseless.

“What was that thing?” Michael asks after a moment of silence. “The spider.”

“They call them Mutant Seekers,” Alex answers. “I've only seen one before, and that was back when they were still prototypes.”

“What do they do?”

“They zero in on the X-gene and target us. And then they instantly adapt to any power that we display. The goal is to immobilize us for capture.”

“So in your case… We couldn't tell what it was doing, beside grabbing you.”

“It emitted a very loud high pitch sound, probably above your hearing range, and flashes of light straight in my eyes. Instant migraine triggers for me.”

“Oh. That sounds painful,” Michael frowns.

Alex nods. “It also keeps me from hearing or seeing anything else, so it's effective. I had no idea those things were so advanced already.”

“How do you know so much about them?” Michael asks.

Alex hesitates. “The lab that designed them is funded by the Air Force,” he answers after a moment – it’s the truth, though not all of it. “I tried to keep updated on their progress when I was still on active duty. But it’s been four years, so my information is probably outdated.”

If he could have access to a computer…

“Well, you probably saved all of our lives by telling us to run in time out there,” Michael says. “We’ll lose a good asset when we get you to Mexico.”

“What if I don't want to go to Mexico?”

Michael shrugs. “You can take your chances out on the street. We can put you into contact with more permanent shelters in other cities, if you want, but most of them won't take in someone who's made the evening news. It's too dangerous now.”

Alex nods. He's seen no less, in the last four years. He's changed cities regularly, going from shelters to squats, never letting his guard down. He's lucky enough to be able to pass as human, but the world isn't kind to mutants, and few people will talk to a fugitive.

“Or−” Michael hesitates.

“Yes?”

“We're always looking for people who can help. You have combat experience and you managed to avoid getting arrested for nearly four years. We could use someone like you.”

“You want me to stay on?” Alex frowns.

“It's your decision, and it's not a long-term commitment, not when we don't know what tomorrow will look like. But this is a safe place, and we help as many people as we can. And with Isobel−” Michael pauses, shaking his head with a pained expression. “We need all the help we can get.”

Alex watches the way his golden eyes shine in the firelight, making him look almost cat-like. He shouldn’t feel this safe out here, he shouldn’t feel like…

Like he’s _home_, almost.

He shakes his head to get rid of the thought. There’s no such thing as a home for him. “I’ll think about it,” he says.

Michael shifts in his seat to take a white bottle out of his pocket. The smell of acetone hits Alex when he uncaps it, along with something else, something stringent but strangely sweet, a hint of cough syrup with another element Alec can’t quite identify.

“What’s this?” he asks, gesturing to the bottle.

“Hypercortisone D,” Michael answers with a shrugs, taking a swing. “Liquid form.”

It takes Alex a second to remember the scientific name for the most potent mutant drug on the market.

“Kick? Seriously?”

“Yeah. I wanted to give you some when you collapsed, but we realized that amplifying your power might not be the best idea.”

“Well, you got that right,” Alex shudders at the thought. He tried Kick once, back when he was sleeping in a squat with some other vagrant mutants. He's not going to try that again anytime soon. The drug, beside being highly addictive, is basically mutant heroine, and the boost it gave him extended his range to at least half the city for a whole day, which he spend puking his guts out from the migraine it caused. “How do you get your hands on it?”

“These days it's easier to find than medical supplies,” Michael shrugs. “Max, Isobel and I grew up addicted, so we never had much of a choice. Max tries to keep his consummation down, but I gave up on that a long time ago. It's impossible to kick, despite the name.”

“Is Isobel going to–” Alex gestures vaguely.

“Not for a few more days, but eventually, she’ll go into withdrawal, yes,” Michael sighs. “We’ve tried. It’s not pretty.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it,” Alex mutters. He tries not to think about it, about the bodies writhing on the floor and the desperation in people’s eyes. He’s seen too much of it.

Alex's eyes fall on Michael's left hand,  the one loosely holding the bottle – an old bottle of nail polish, if he’s not mistaken . He saw the scars  on his hand before, briefly, but it strikes him suddenly, maybe because he's more attuned with his power right now. The hand is stiff, mangled, and his brain reconstructs the patterns until he sees it, the hammer, the man bringing it down, the lab…

Fuck.

It's not just a trace. He's not just seeing it because of his mutation.

It's a memory.

Alex knows exactly why Michael feels familiar now, and he wants to throw up.


End file.
